


Tangerine Blossom

by SunshineAndSoul (Jessicamariek)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, M/M, Slow Build, fluff with plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 20:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14755565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessicamariek/pseuds/SunshineAndSoul
Summary: “Love grows where it’s planted, Hansol,” his sister-in-law said, sitting in the common room with her winter-blooming roses sweet on the air. “It grows where it’s planted and tended to, like any other living thing. All it needs is work, and patience with each other.”The king's second son had always known he'd have no choice in who he married. However, he hadn't expected the prince of the southern isles to be quitethischarming.





	Tangerine Blossom

**Author's Note:**

> TW: mention of past domestic violence

The king’s second son hurried through the halls of the royal suite, trying to hide his anxiety as he passed guards and courtiers. He nodded in response to bowing courtiers and officials, indistinct murmurs a reply to greetings on his way to the large, airy rooms in the north wing. A young woman with her dark hair in a braid down to her elbows stood outside in the hall, pulling a polishing stone down the slender blade of a sword. She smiled and bowed slightly when she saw him.  
“I would like to speak with my siblings,” he told the guard quietly. “Would you announce me?”  
“Of course, highness,” she said with a nod, disappearing behind the dark wooden door for a moment. The crown prince and his wife had their own quarters connected to those of the king’s younger children, and Hansol valued his brother’s advice – especially now, after his talk with their father.  
“Their highnesses will see you,” the guard said quietly, and Hansol blinked as her voice pulled him out of his thoughts.  
“Thank you, Sooyoung,” he told her with a smile, which she returned as she held the door for him.  
The private quarters of the crown prince and his wife were airy and full of light, with large windows facing the palace gardens, high ceilings, and furnishings in sky blue and warm apricot. The princess’s delicate miniature rosebushes bloomed near a window, their smell sweet on the air as the late autumn breeze blew browned leaves against the glass. Hansol liked it in here – something about the two of them made him feel safe. His elder brother rose to greet him with a smile.  
“Hansol,” Seungcheol greeted him warmly, embracing the younger. Hansol smiled and tucked his cheek against his brother’s shoulder, feeling the tension run out of him. He trusted Seungcheol completely, almost more than he did their father; after the king’s second wife died, Seungcheol and his twin sister had practically raised their younger siblings.  
“Do you have a few minutes, Cheol? I need your advice.”  
“I always have time for you, you know that.” Hansol pulled back and smiled at him before turning to greet the room’s other occupant.  
“Dear sister,” he said, crossing to the couch where his sister-in-law sat.  
“Dear brother,” Joohyun said with a smile, the traditional forms of address natural after three years.  
“You don’t need to rise if it’s too difficult,” he told her as he leaned down to kiss her cheek.  
“I’m not _that_ far gone,” she laughed, one hand resting on the swell of her stomach, but she didn’t move to stand. He smiled and moved to sit across from her.  
“Has Yerim said how much longer she thinks it’ll be?”  
“A few more months,” she told him as she tucked her feet up under her rose-colored skirts, “sometime before the first thaw.” Hansol had always loved listening to Joohyun talk; her accent came out when she spoke informally, the lilt of the western mountains putting an extra touch of music into her voice.  
“So close,” he said excitedly – Hansol was rather looking forward to being an uncle. By custom the king’s younger sons weren’t supposed to have children, in the name of keeping the succession uncomplicated, so nieces and nephews were the next best thing.  
“I’m a little nervous, to be honest.” Joohyun’s voice was quiet, but warm. “Everything’s going to change.”  
“You’ll be fine,” Seungcheol told his wife, sitting next to her and lacing his fingers with hers. “I know you will.” The two of them sat smiling at each other for a moment, lost in their own happy world. Hansol subtly cleared his throat after a moment. It wasn’t awkward; he enjoyed seeing the brother he loved so happy – but thoughts of marital bliss brought him back to his own situation, and the happy warmth in his chest curdled like sour milk.

“Hansol, are you alright? You’ve gone pale,” Joohyun asked, leaning forward with a worried little crease between her eyebrows.  
“I just –“ he swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. “I’ve just spoken with Father.”  
“Enough to make even a strong man queasy,” Seungcheol murmured drily, and Joohyun tutted softly and tapped the back of his hand with a look of fond annoyance. The king was a kindly man and a loving father, even though he seldom had much time to spend with his family.  
“Father finalized the marriage treaty,” Hansol blurted out, and saying the words aloud made it suddenly, crushingly real. He was about to be married off to a stranger, a pawn in his father’s political games – it had worked beautifully for Seungcheol and Joohyun, but Hansol remembered too well the pain and drama of his sister’s liberation from the husband who had mistreated her.  
“Already?” Joohyun gasped, eyes wide, and Seungcheol leaned back slightly with a thoughtful look.  
“The prince of the southern isles?”  
“How did you – you know, I’m actually not even surprised you know already,” Hansol sighed, letting his head drop forward onto his hands. “You busybody,” he added without heat, and Seungcheol huffed a laugh.  
“You know why, though,” he said calmly. “If something were to happen, if Father –“  
“Chokes on a chicken bone tomorrow, someone has to know what’s going on around here,” another voice finished the sentence. Nayoung ruffled her twin brother’s hair as she swept into the room from the door connecting their quarters to the royal siblings’ shared suite. She leaned over the back of the couch to hug Joohyun, and smiled innocently at the long-suffering look her brother gave her. “You do say that a lot, you know.”  
“I could always abdicate and let _you_ do all this, you know.”  
“But you won’t,” she said lightly as she sat down in a flutter of mint-green silk. “You’re too responsible for that.” There was another giggle from the doorway connecting the rooms.  
“Not you too, Solhee?” Seungcheol’s smile was gentle as he turned to face his youngest sister.  
“We didn’t actually come just to tease you,” Nayoung told him as Solhee kissed her older siblings.  
“Oh, really?”  
“Really.”  
“Actually…” Solhee trailed off for a moment as she sat down. “You know how gossip spreads between the courtiers. Hansol, did father say anything…” He swallowed again and nodded, staring down at the richly-dyed rugs on the floor.  
“The prince of the southern isles will arrive a month after the winter solstice,” he repeated their father’s words, “with the wedding to take place within the week.”

_Your Royal Highness –_   
_I hope this letter finds you in good health and high spirits. I wanted to send a greeting to you before I arrive in the western capital – it would feel strange to meet you as my fiancé without ever having spoken before, wouldn’t it?_   
_I know the expectation is to act as if I feel nothing but excitement, but I must confess I am not without hesitation as well. Ambassador Kim assures me we’ll be well-matched, but I will feel much better when I see for myself that he was right._   
_I’ve sent with this letter some of the early crop from the tangerine trees on the palace grounds. There are several ways to eat them, but my favorite is just to remove the skin and eat the fruit in its sections. I hope you enjoy them!_   
_Sincerely,_   
_Seungkwan_   
_Prince of the Southern Isles_

Hansol smiled to himself as he read through the brief letter again, all curly handwriting over crisp parchment. On the table in front of him was a lacquered box, containing three pebbled orange fruits. The shredded peel of the fourth sat in a pile next to the box, with the half-peeled fruit on a cloth; Hansol’s efforts to liberate the edible parts of the tangerine had been less than successful. This was harder than it looked, he concluded.  
“Your highness, you sent for me?” The ambassador from the southern isles was a young man of approximately the same height as Hansol, with round cheeks and angled, intelligent eyes.  
“Ah, Ambassador Kwon,” he said with a smile, “I would like to ask for your assistance. I’ve had a letter from your prince, along with a bit of a surprise.” He gestured at the fruits on the table and the ambassador smiled.  
“I should have expected that,” he said with a chuckle. “Our prince is quite fond of tangerines - some years ago the dowager queen arranged to have a few trees in the palace orchard altered to fruit later or earlier than the usual growing season, so he could have them more often.” Hansol couldn’t help but smile.  
“I’ll try to remember that. Is there a trick to getting the skin off of them efficiently? I haven’t been very successful so far,” he said, picking up a scrap of the bright orange peel, and Soonyoung chuckled.  
“May I?” he asked, reaching for the fruit on the table. “It’s actually fairly simple, once you’ve done it a time or two.”

_Your Royal Highness –_   
_Your letter came as a lovely surprise, as did the tangerines. I’ll admit that I had to ask Ambassador Kwon how to get them out of their skins without shredding the skin or the flesh – they’re very sturdy little fruits, aren’t they? They were very delicious, however – thank you so much for sending them._   
_I’m also a little nervous about being married, but I think it’s natural in our situation…_

The next several weeks were marked by regular and increasingly lengthy letters, carried along with the more official correspondence over the chill winter sea. They had quickly moved past formal phrasing and titles to exchanging details of their daily lives, telling each other stories about themselves, getting to know each other as well as they could from across so far a distance. His siblings were almost as curious as Hansol was about the other boy, and he found it amusing to see how differently they reacted to each new letter.  
Solhee was excited, eager to read the letters herself almost before Hansol had finished them, and reminding him of silly stories from their childhood or interesting ones from the last few years that he could tell in return. Seungcheol was optimistic and cheerful, full of suggestions and advice, and balanced by Joohyun’s slightly more logical side – although she had some of the best advice he’d gotten.  
“Love grows where it’s planted, Hansol,” she’d said, sitting in the common room with her winter-blooming roses sweet on the air. “It grows where it’s planted and tended to, like any other living thing. All it needs is work, and patience with each other.”  
Nayoung, however, was more reserved – she wasn’t cold by any means, and she made an effort to engage and encourage him, but it was plain that it _was_ an effort. Hansol couldn’t blame her – he knew why she couldn’t feel the same excitement as the rest of them. He’d been there that night, after all… but it was something he tried not to remember.

Hansol sat in the common room he shared with his siblings, re-reading Seungkwan’s latest letter as snow fell softly against the windowpane. His future husband (odd, that thought) had a flair for storytelling, for painting pictures with his words, and a knack for puns and wordplay. He smiled as he read, enjoying the story of Seungkwan and his younger sister slipping out past the palace guards to visit the harvest bazaar, the descriptions of plain clothes borrowed from servants and the exotic goods at the booths, dodging the patrols and sneaking back _into_ the castle with the small things they’d bought. The words created a vivid picture of the noise and color and clamor of the market, bright and warm even as winter swirled in icy gusts around the castle.  
Hansol could hear his sisters’ voices in Nayoung’s rooms; she’d left the door ajar out of habit, and he smiled broader as Solhee rambled happily about what she’d learned that afternoon from the palace alchemists. He was fairly sure that their youngest sister would end up being the smartest of all of them – she had a natural talent for academics, and the fact that she was the youngest, and therefore least likely to inherit the crown, meant that she had the freedom to spend her time on studies rather than statecraft.

“Your highnesses,” Nayoung’s favorite guard said quietly, “your father would like to speak to you.”  
“We are at his service, of course,” she said after a moment’s pause, followed by a quick “Your Majesty” and the creak of their chairs as the girls rose to curtsy.  
“My dear, dear daughters.” Their father’s voice was warm, and a little rusty with age and weariness. “Please, sit. Ah, Nayoung, you’ve finished that book already? What did you think of it?” It had been at least a week since Hansol had spoken to him, possibly longer. He loved his father, but the king could rarely spend time with his children; the work of running a kingdom meant his days were long and filled with problems that needed to be solved immediately. Hansol set Seungkwan’s letter down on the table next to him and leaned his head back against the cushion, closing his eyes and listening to his family talk; Nayoung had enjoyed the book and would like to discuss in detail some of the points the author had made when they had time; Solhee found the lessons in alchemy and natural science fascinating, especially a distillation experiment she’d been involved in; the king had received a letter from the queen regnant of the eastern mountains proposing a collaborative study between their court magicians, attempting to shorten or ease the journey between their capitals.  
“Ah, but that reminds me,” he said, “Nayoung, you’d asked to speak to me on a matter. I’m sorry it’s taken me a few days – there’s been too many things to do, between holding those brutes to the south off of our border, the trade agreements with the continent and arranging your brother’s wedding. What’s been on your mind?”  
“I… yes, father.” Nayoung’s voice trailed off for a moment. “Solhee, Yebin… would you leave us for a moment, please?” she said very quietly.  
“As you wish, highness,” Yebin replied, followed after a long moment by Solhee saying “Yes, Nayoung.” Hansol could hear the curiosity in his younger sister’s voice; Solhee was a very clever girl, but the quickest way to pique that curiosity was to deny it. “With your permission, Father.”  
“Of course, my child, of course,” their father said, a smile curling around the edges of his voice when he spoke to his youngest daughter. The heavy wooden door closed with a rasping sound, the wood dry and slightly shrunken in the cold.

The silence hung like dust in the air, tense but not quite angry; Hansol felt like he shouldn’t be listening – but Solhee wasn’t the only curious one in their family.  
“She loves and cherishes you,” Nayoung said quietly, “as a young girl should love and cherish her father. She deserves better than to hear this.”  
“And what, my dear daughter, might tha—“  
“You _promised_ me, Father,” Nayoung cut him off, pain and anger bubbling low beneath the surface of her voice. “Do you remember? A year ago I stood in front of the full church court, recited in detail every humiliation I endured in that sham of a marriage, with the scars on my skin barely healed – and the ones on my heart that I don’t think ever _will_ –” Her words cut off with a sound like choking, and Hansol felt his mouth go dry. “– and we stood in that place as the High Priest declared my marriage invalid, and _you promised me_ that my siblings would be free to choose their own paths. That they could follow their hearts.” She took a deep, shuddering breath, held it for a moment, and then let it out in a slow, controlled sigh. “And now,” she said in calmer tones, more sorrow than anger riding on her voice, “now you are arranging for my soft-hearted little brother to marry a complete stranger. Some boy from the south whom none of us have ever met. Did you _forget_ , Father?”

There was a long moment of quiet. Hansol tried not to dwell on the circumstances that brought his older sister back home from the disaster of her marriage; he’d been there that night, five of them sneaking by moonlight up to the fortress on the southern shore. He’d watched Nayoung stumble into Seungcheol’s arms after climbing down a knotted rope, and watched her try to keep her face turned so her twin brother couldn’t see the bruise on her cheek. He remembered the sound of the horse’s hooves galloping back to the ship beached in a shallow cove, the thrum and twang of the bow in his hands and the blood pooling black in the moonlight when the arrows hit their targets, and the taste of metal in his mouth and the hair rising on the back of his neck as Minkyoung’s spell had leveled their pursuers in a burst of lightning and fury. He remembered…  
Hansol shook his head, breathing deep and pushing the thoughts of that night away. Now was not the time to dwell on those events.

“I did not forget, Nayoung,” their father said gently, “and I’m sorry for leaving you to think I had. You have the right to be angry with me, but please know that I did not make this decision lightly. The world is larger than one family, even one such as ours. And right now, the state of that world is such that we need to have an iron-clad, highly visible alliance with the southern isles.”  
“I know. Those pirates on the south shore have been attacking their trade ships again, and their senile old fool of a king is making no move to stop them. The move to ally ourselves via marriage with the southern isles makes it plain that they’re boxed in on three sides – the eastern mountains, the isles, and us. Any sane man would step back at that point – of course, that supposes that their king is sane, and I have my doubts on that front.”  
“And since the young sister of the isles’ current queen has been promised for some time to the youngest prince in the east, this was the only way to make that clear alliance. You’re well-informed, my dear.”  
“I spent almost a year there, after all – there’s a large faction in their court that wants to invade the isles, because they appear to have the fewest defenses. And besides, Cheol tells me a lot,” Nayoung said, with the barest hint of a fond smile curling around her brother’s name, “and didn’t you say once that a king never rules alone?” She sighed. “Just to be clear, I haven’t said a word of this to Hansol, and I don’t intend to. He’s so excited.” Her voice was wistful, and a little sad. “I won’t ruin that for him. He deserves to be happy.”

Hansol swallowed hard, guilt and anxiety sitting heavy in his stomach. His eyes fell on the letter from Seungkwan, folded and lying innocently on the table.  
What if they wouldn’t be well-matched after all?  
It had been some years since he’d seen his uncles, but he remembered being young and so confused about their situation. They were technically married, second son to second son, like many before them - but they lived apart, kept separate households, had special lady friends who had children that looked a little like Hansol and his siblings (he’d learned the terms “mistress” and “bastard” years afterward). They only seemed to speak to each other on official occasions, stilted and formal and distant. It had seemed so strange to him – if they were married, why didn’t they seem to even like each other?  
What if that was the future that awaited him, tethered to a spouse in nothing but name? Letters couldn’t really prepare anyone for marriage – and he’d read the letters from Nayoung’s abusive cur of a husband when they were courting, and they’d been sweet and captivating as anything. He’d stayed that way for a few months, she’d told them, just long enough to make her let her guard down. He didn’t think Seungkwan could be anywhere near that bad of a person – but not being a monster didn’t mean they’d actually be _happy_ together.  
He sighed, pulling himself out of the comfortable chair and walking quietly toward his own door. He needed advice from someone with a clearer head than his own.

The castle boasted a greenhouse, a high-ceilinged glass enclosure on the southern side of the keep, warm even in the dead of winter and full of green and growing things. There were vegetables and herbs in neat rows, beds of flowers and Joohyun’s roses gone dormant in the winter, beehives set into the wall so the busy little creatures could access both the inside and outside, and everywhere the smell of rich warm soil and green leaves. Hansol enjoyed the calm of the greenhouse, but at the moment he was looking for someone who could often be found there.  
“Jisoo, my friend, do you have a moment?” he asked. “I could use your advice.”  
“Of course, your highness.” The castle’s herbalist and apothecary smiled at him; they’d grown up together, princes and baron’s sons and duke’s nephews all in a noisy group of children, and Jisoo’s calm head and gentle personality made him a trusted friend to both princes as they’d grown into men.

There was a cozy room at the side of the greenhouse that Jisoo used as an office of sorts; a desk with ledgers and notes and recipes, a porcelain potbelly stove with a warm fire, and a pot of tea steaming invitingly. A comfortable sort of room, Hansol thought, for a comfortable sort of person.  
“What do you want to talk about, Hansol?” Jisoo asked, handing him a cup of tea. It was fragrant, notes of oranges and cinnamon rising on the steam, and just the right amount of honey. It was a privilege accorded to few, to address the royal family by name, but when it was a friend who knew how and when to make him a good cup of tea, Hansol figured it was a privilege well earned.  
“I think I just need you to tell me I’m over-reacting, to be honest.” Hansol laughed a little at himself, leaning back against the overstuffed chair he sat in.  
“You do that sometimes, yes,” Jisoo agreed with a smile. Hansol sighed and closed his eyes.  
“I’m scared,” he said quietly. “What if we don’t even like each other? What if we get along well enough at first, but as time goes by we can’t stand each other’s presence? What if we don’t even get along at all?” He opened his eyes, staring up at the thick wooden beams of the ceiling. “I always knew I wouldn’t have much choice in who I married, but now that it’s happening, all I can think of is all the ways it can go wrong.”  
Jisoo hummed quietly. “I can’t blame you for being nervous – this has come on very quickly.” He stirred his own cup of tea, the spoon ringing against the rim of the cup like the clapper of a bell. “Hmm… you’ve been writing letters back and forth, haven’t you?” Hansol nodded. “Tell me a little about what you know of him already.”  
“What I know?” Hansol leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and looking down into the cup in his hands. “He likes telling stories, and he’s really good at it,” he said after a moment. “He’s the only boy in the family, his mother is his favorite person in the world, and his sisters are a very close second. He dotes on his nephew and spends a lot of time helping teach the young children in the castle, he loves tangerines and animals and music, and he’s very curious – there are always so many questions about me and my life and my thoughts.” He sighed, shaking his head. “When I say it like that… I think I’m just scared that it’s too good to be true.”  
“It’s an understandable fear, all things considered. We all remember,” Jisoo said gravely. “But it sounds like things are off to a good start, at least. You’re handling it better than I would, I think.” Hansol huffed a laugh, looking back at his friend.  
“Lucky for you that you didn’t have to, then. How is Yerim, anyway? I don’t think I’ve seen her in a few days.”  
“Busy,” Jisoo said with a rueful smile. “I’ve barely seen her for the last week or so, either. But she’s the chief healer, there’s a cold running through the palace, and her cousin – who happens to also be the crown princess – is about to have a baby, so I suppose it makes sense that’s she’s stretched thin.” He took a sip of the tea, eyes slipping closed for a moment as he swallowed. “But even when we’re busy and doing too many things, we still try to make time for each other. Even if it’s just a few minutes at a time, or an extra note at the bottom of the list of ingredients she needs, or me making sure that I leave the fire built up before I go to sleep so it’s still burning when she comes in. I think that’s the key – we make sure we try. And if you and Prince Seungkwan both try, you’ll be alright.”  
  
_My dear Seungkwan -_  
_I’m writing not in response but in hopes that I’ll have this letter finished before the escort fleet leaves this afternoon. I agree with you that it seems like a little bit too much, to have so many ships to escort one young man, but at the same time I’m glad they want to be so sure that you’ll be safe – ah, Solhee’s peeking over my shoulder as I write this, she says that she’s looking forward to meeting you too, and to stay warm on the journey here…_  
  
“Stop fussing with it, your hair looks fine,” Nayoung said fondly, nudging Hansol’s foot with her own. The winter wind swirled gritty snow against the windows of the carriage the family rode in, each of them in a little cocoon of wool and furs against the cold.  
“Are you excited?” Solhee asked, turning away from the window where she’d been watching the city streets they rode through.  
“I’m excited, I’m nervous, I’m a little queasy - I don’t know anymore,” Hansol laughed, shaking his head. They had been told that the escort fleet from the southern isles carrying the prince would be arriving in port that afternoon, and as they crested a hill near the center of town, the sails had been visible on the horizon.  
The governor’s house was tall and sturdy, made of dark grey stone and set at the water’s edge with its own quay and pier. The royal family sat in the formal meeting room on the top floor, with a fire burning merrily in the grate and thick, knotted rugs on the floors. Seungcheol sat with his head down over a stack of papers with their father, Nayoung had her feet tucked up under her and a book in her hands, and Hansol paced anxiously back and forth in front of the window, watching the ships draw slowly closer to the shore.  
He paused in front of the window with his hands twitching as he looked down at the boats. Solhee looked up from playing with the governor’s cat in front of the fireplace, her face thoughtful. She stood and walked with quiet steps behind him, wrapped her arms around his chest from behind, and smiled when he jerked in surprise before sighing and leaning his head against hers.  
“You’re thinking too much,” she murmured, chin resting on her brother’s shoulder. “You know how this is gonna go,” she told him, slipping into informal language, “you’re going to be all awkward and nervous for a little while, and you’re going to say stupid things and then cringe as soon as you say them, and then something’s going to go _click_ between you, and everything’s going to be fine. You’ll see.” Hansol huffed out a laugh, laying his hands over hers.  
“When did you get this smart?” he asked fondly.  
“I’m not a baby anymore, you know.” She squeezed his ribs and he laughed, leaning his cheek against her hair and closing his eyes.  
Hansol concentrated for a moment on the sounds and scents around him, trying to distract himself. Solhee’s hair smelled like soap, the sharp smoke in the alchemy laboratory, and the oil with the rose petals in it that she used to keep it smooth in the wintertime. He could feel the chill from the stone wall in front of him, and the heat from the fire to his left, and the warmth of Solhee’s breath against his shoulder. He could hear Seungcheol and their father talking about some letters from the mainland to the west, and Nayoung humming quietly to herself as she read, and the crackle of the wood in the fireplace. They were together, safe and warm and content, and he leaned into his little sister’s arms and waited.

The sound of other voices in the corridor outside pulled Hansol out of his thoughts.  
“…but of course, it’s only a matter of time before – ah, here we are.” Soonyoung had gone with the escort fleet. If he was here, then that meant – “Are you ready, your highness?”  
“Just a moment,” said another voice, and Hansol felt his heartbeat speed up. “I just…”  
“I know, Seungkwan,” Soonyoung said gently. “Take your time.”  
“Ready?” Solhee asked, squeezing her brother’s ribs again, and Hansol huffed a laugh.  
“What if I say no?” he said with a half-smile, and she snickered. Hansol turned toward the door, but his eye caught on his siblings. Seungcheol was sitting back and looking at the door with a smile, and Nayoung… Nayoung was watching him with a strange, soft expression on her face. Wistfulness was there, and a little bit of regret, but the biggest part of what he could read in her eyes was _hope_. She smiled at him, soft and small but completely genuine, and he smiled back as the large doors swung open.  
“Your majesty, may I present his highness, Prince Seungkwan of the southern isles,” Soonyoung said formally, and Hansol stepped away from the window to see the other boy as he rose from a bow.

Seungkwan was… the word Hansol thought of first was _lovely_. High, round cheeks touched with pink from the cold, dark eyes that creased into happy little half-moons as he smiled – and oh, that smile, the kind of smile that lit up his entire face. Hansol felt himself instinctively grin in response.  
“Ah, welcome, welcome, so glad to see you’ve made it here safely,” the king said warmly, clapping the young man on the shoulder. “How did you find the journey?”  
“As comfortable as could be expected, your majesty, and we were glad to have not encountered any storms.” He spoke formally, of course, but there was a touch of music to Seungkwan’s voice that Hansol found charming.  
“That’s comforting to hear – the weather along the coast can be quite unpredictable in this season.” Seungkwan glanced around the room, taking in the tapestries hung on the walls and the comfortable chairs, lit by the odd combination of warm firelight and wan winter sunshine. Hansol vaguely registered Solhee stepping back, flicking open a folding fan of dark blue silk in front of her face the way Nayoung had taught her. He took a step forward, unconsciously holding his breath, and the movement apparently caught the other boy’s attention as their eyes met for the first time.

Hansol wasn’t entirely sure what he’d expected of that first moment – a shock, perhaps, like the feeling of electricity he got after walking on rugs in his socks during the winter, or a sense of destiny, or fascination, or something else of significance. What he actually felt was something a little like anticipation, like anxiety, like – like _panic_ at the realization that he’d had a whole little speech of welcome planned out and now he couldn’t remember a single word.  
But this wasn’t really a stranger, after all – this was a boy he already knew a bit of, someone he knew loved cinnamon bread and his family, liked to sing, was clever enough to sneak around the palace guards and caring enough to sneak treats to the children of the court. He wasn’t sure if they were friends just yet, but he knew enough of his fiancé to be optimistic about the future. Seungkwan’s smile was warm and sincere, and Hansol stepped toward him, meeting in the middle of the room. His hands were soft, surprisingly warm given how cold it had been outside, and Hansol was slightly surprised at how well they fit into his own.  
“You’re _here_ ,” he said happily, a wide grin splitting his face, before remembering that this was supposed to be a formal occasion. “Ah – I mean, welcome, your highness, I’m glad to see the journey hasn’t been difficult.” He blinked and shook his head slightly; formal occasion or not, he couldn’t put together those long, involved sentences right now. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said simply, squeezing Seungkwan’s hands slightly.  
“So am I,” Seungkwan said, his tone warm and smile putting dimples into his cheeks. They stood and smiled at each other for a moment before Hansol turned slightly, holding one hand out toward his little sister.  
“Here, let me introduce you to the rest of the family…”

As the carriage pulled up to the castle gates, Hansol had realized three things. First, that Seungkwan was a very skilled conversationalist; he seemed to know a little bit about everything, and had a knack for drawing out stories from those he spoke with. Second, that Seungkwan’s voice was very pleasing to listen to, almost musical in the rise and fall and cadence. And third, that it was a very good thing that Hansol liked listening to his voice, because by heaven the boy could talk _forever_.  
Somewhere in the middle of listening to him discuss some principal of alchemy with Solhee, Hansol noticed something about the young man sitting next to him. Seungkwan seemed like he was trying to entertain them, all clever quips and easy jokes, but with an undercurrent of nervousness underneath. He seemed to panic for a moment when the conversation died out, rushing into the next topic as if he was afraid of awkward silences.  
The introductions to the rest of Seungkwan’s party once they all joined in the lower council chambers were easy and almost informal. Seokmin was a talented singer and entertainer with the kind of smile that took up his whole face, and Chan a dear friend and clever student of alchemy whose laugh sounded like water running over stones. Minghao was the young prince’s bodyguard, raised and trained on the mainland with the rich color of their speech in his voice, and then there was Soonyoung, cheerful and talkative as always. There was a brief discussion of introductions to be made in the morning to the others in the castle who took those roles, of how they’d all merge into one household, but the sun had long since set and many of them were already fighting back yawns.  
“We can figure out the details in the morning,” the king said eventually. “I’m sure we’ll all be much sharper of mind after a good night’s rest.” A murmur of agreement passed around the room. “Very well, very well then – let me show you to your rooms, my boy,” he said, turning to Seungkwan, “and we’ll all meet up after breakfast and continue where we left off. Sleep well, my friends.”

It was perhaps an hour past midnight, and Hansol couldn’t sleep. Too much excitement during the day, he supposed, and now too many things on his mind. He sighed, rolled over and bunched a pillow up into a more comfortable position under his head.  
For the first time in several days, the wind had died down, and the castle now sat in peaceful silence; Hansol could see the full moon through the window when he peeked out the curtains surrounding his bed. An idea came to him as he looked out at the cool light cast over the stone walls, and a few minutes later he was slipping silently through the halls of the castle. At the end of the corridor was a thin spiral staircase leading up to the ramparts, rarely used in these times of peace, but its presence and inconspicuousness meant that a young prince who wanted to sneak up to the rooftops to be alone with his thoughts could usually do so without being spotted.  
The moon was clear and brighter out in the open air, the air bitingly cold but still, and carrying the scent of snow. Hansol eased the door almost closed behind him – he was never certain if it locked, and a night this cold was not the time he wanted to find out. He stopped short at the sound of a voice – an unfamiliar voice singing in a clear, resonant tone above the sleeping fortress.  
_…And precious things_  
_Are dreams unto an exile_  
 _They take him over_  
 _The land across the sea_  
 _Especially when it happens he's an exile_  
 _From that dear lovely Isle of Innisfree…_  
Hansol quietly stepped closer, drawing his cloak a little tighter around him for warmth. He wasn’t sure if he was surprised or not to see Seungkwan sitting with his back against the stones, eyes closed, singing a song of wistful homesickness. He stood and listened for a moment, impressed – their court had several talented musicians, songwriters and singers and composers, but to Hansol’s undertrained ear Seungkwan was easily their equal.  
The song came to an end, a shuddering breath as Seungkwan opened his eyes and looked up at the stars above them. He looked so sad, so scared, that it made Hansol’s stomach lurch – he couldn’t imagine leaving his home and his family behind, going to live with strangers, having everything in his world at the mercy of someone he couldn’t even be sure would care about him. It hurt even to think of those fears.

“You sing beautifully,” he said as he stepped out of the shadows. Seungkwan startled for a moment, gasping and turning toward him with wide eyes, before settling back against the stones.  
“I… thank you,” he said quietly. “I didn’t wake you, did I? I don’t know how far a voice would travel from up here...”  
“No, no, it’s fine. I couldn’t hear you till I came outside.” Hansol paused for a moment. “May I join you?” Seungkwan nodded, and Hansol settled down against the wall next to him, moonlight almost as bright as day making it easy to see. “I don’t think I’ve heard that song before – where is it from?”  
“Something old from home,” Seungkwan said, looking down with a sad little smile. “My sister did an arrangement of it a year or two ago with a few other songs, for my brother in law’s birthday.” He sighed, drawing his knees up under his chin and looking out over the plains in front of them. “Sungyeon’s still at sea… I hope she’ll be alright.”  
“I’m sure she’ll be safe – after all, didn’t the easterners send escorts like we did?” Seungkwan hummed in assent. “And then… Joohyun grew up there, and she says that her home court is a little more formal than we are, but I’m sure your sister’s going to be fine there. She’ll be taken care of.” Another hum, this one accompanied by a small smile, and Hansol took a breath, pondering his next words. “You too,” he said after a moment, and Seungkwan looked up at him, puzzled. “I mean,” he stumbled slightly over the words, “I know that – I grew up knowing that I’d probably – but I don’t know if this is something that you ever expected, so…” he sighed, forking a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m saying this all wrong, but what I’m getting at is that… I don’t know, you just looked so sad for a minute there, and – and I don’t want that. I don’t want you to be sad here.”  
“I…” Seungkwan trailed off, “that’s very sweet, Hansol. Thank you.” His expression was soft, and a little curious as he leaned his cheek against his arm. “I don’t think I feel sad, really – maybe a little homesick, though.” He sighed quietly, eyes closing for a moment. “This is the first time since I was about seven that I’ve tried to fall asleep without hearing the ocean – you wouldn’t think that’s such a big thing, but it’s so _quiet_ tonight and I couldn’t sleep.”  
“I hadn’t thought about it like that,” Hansol said. “I guess it makes sense though – you get so used to having the sound in your ears that when it’s not there, it’s really noticeable.”  
“Exactly.” Seungkwan took a deep breath, sitting back against the wall and tilting his head back. “Hansol, can I ask a question?”  
“Of course.”  
“What… exactly, are we supposed to… to be? I mean, I understand what marriage is supposed to look like between a man and a woman, but this is –“  
“It’s something unusual,” Hansol agreed, “but it’s… I guess we just start off as friends, you know? If something deeper develops then that’s fine, and I remember my great-uncles being like that, but…” He sighed and scratched the back of his head. “I guess it’s like any other arranged marriage - only nobody’s ever going to pester us about heirs.” Seungkwan bit back a laugh, his shoulders shaking against the stone.  
“I certainly hope not,” he said with a wry little smile. “It’s just… I think I need to get used to the whole idea.” He turned again to look back at Hansol, moonlight catching in his hair and on the apples of his cheeks. “I don’t think I mind it, though.”

The wedding day was a blur; Hansol felt like he experienced it in snapshots set like framed pictures against the swirl of activity and color. Solhee sitting at the mirror, touching the sapphire set she’d gotten for her birthday and was wearing for the first time today; Joohyun with her head on Nayoung’s shoulder, both girls taking advantage of a calm moment to close their eyes; Seungcheol’s arm around his shoulders and his voice warm and rumbly and soothing as Hansol waited, and fretted, and _waited_. His biggest memory of the ceremony itself was the moment, halfway through, when the officiant asked them to join hands, and he realized Seungkwan’s hands were trembling almost as badly as his own; they’d smiled at each other then, a silent little thing that felt more like a vow than any words they’d said as the ceremony continued.  
And then it was done, and they were wed, and they faced the assembled crowd hand in still-shaking hand.  
The feast after was sumptuous – birds and beasts and fish laid out on platters, well-roasted vegetables and warm bread, and dried fruit minced and mixed into ice cream molded into fanciful shapes. The palace musicians sang and played, and Hansol found himself stopping to listen. He knew Yewon’s voice since they were children, bright and clear and ringing, and Seunghwan’s flute-like voice was almost as familiar after she’d come to the palace with Joohyun three years ago, but he sat in awe listening to Seokmin.  
“He’s very good,” Hansol said to Seungkwan as the guests applauded.  
“He is,” he agreed with a nod. “We used to sing duets at home, or trios with my sister.”  
“I’d like to hear that,” Hansol told him, and Seungkwan smiled at him as the next song began.

The feast ended, with noise and song and the clatter of too many shoes on the floor, and the traditional escort of the newlyweds to the bedchamber. The sound of the door shutting seemed unusually loud, and they were left alone in the dim warmth, staring at the door as the sounds out in the corridor faded. There was a long moment of silence, spooling out into the darkness like unwinding thread, and then they looked at each other, blinked – and burst out laughing. After the events of the day, the deep formality and ceremony and the fact that they were _married_ now, laughter struck Hansol as something a little out of place – and yet here they were, clinging to each other’s arms and cackling like madmen.  
“Now what?” Seungkwan said, still laughing.  
“I’m not quite sure,” Hansol responded, shaking his head as his own chuckles died down. “I mean, nothing like, like _that_ has to happen, not unless it’s something we’re both…” he shook his head, trying to ignore the blush he could feel rising in his cheeks, “but honestly, right now, it’s been a very long and very loud day and I sort of just want to sleep.”  
“Me too,” Seungkwan said quickly, “sleeps sounds – sleep sounds very good.”

Hansol woke the next morning with something soft tickling his nose. He turned his head further into the pillow, trying to dislodge the irritation. When that didn’t work, he cracked open one eye to see what was making him want to sneeze.  
Fluffy, dark brown hair, apparently. Hansol had a vague memory of Seungkwan’s half-asleep grumbling about being cold, but he hadn’t expected to wake up with the other curled against him, head tucked underneath Hansol’s chin and hands balled into soft fists near his face. Hansol carefully pulled back just enough to look at him.  
Seungkwan’s hair was a mess, ruffled and mussed against the pillow, and his cheeks were slightly pink in the cool air of a winter morning. His mouth was slightly pouty, lips parted just a bit, his expression soft. Hansol closed his eyes again and sighed. Soft was also a good word for the feelings bubbling up in him, warm and safe there in the early morning stillness. Soft, and confusing.  
Their vows had spoken of partnership, of support and cooperation, but not of love. But “partnership” wasn’t Seungkwan nestled against his chest because he was cold, and it wasn’t Hansol’s arm draped over his back. “Support and cooperation” didn’t account for the warm little bubble of happiness growing in Hansol’s chest. Something about him made Hansol feel drawn in, some kind of gravity that pulled him closer – and made him want to stay close. It was puzzling, unexpected – a little frightening.  
He’d been pleased enough to find that the spouse his father had chosen for him was someone he could get along well with, but hadn’t hoped for anything more. He’d expected friendship – after all, he thought, he had one sibling who had fallen madly in love with his arranged wife, and one whose husband had nearly killed her, so it made sense to him that his would be the average of their experiences. Now, though…  
Seungkwan made a drowsy little noise, and burrowed closer to Hansol before going still again. Hansol smiled and pulled the blankets a little tighter around them.  
It was too early in the morning for all this. He’d figure out feelings later.

The next several weeks were spent settling into a routine, meals in the main hall and time spent in the common room with the family and long talks over cups of spiced tea as the sun set. Hansol was learning a lot about Seungkwan.  
He was preternaturally easy to talk to, for one thing – listening and drawing out information and stories from people was a skill Hansol could respect, and Seungkwan did it with ease. He had a knack for knowing what side of himself he needed to show at any given time, whether it was talking about flowers and philosophy with Joohyun, or listening to Solhee talk as long as she wanted about the projects she was working on with the palace alchemists, or being a new point of view in political discussions with Seungcheol and Nayoung. He thrived on contact, was fond of back hugs, and tended to curl himself around Hansol as they slept. He loved music, would sing to himself if he thought nobody was listening (and sometimes if he knew they were), played the harpsichord well enough that even the castle’s master of music was impressed, and Hansol knew how rare _that_ was. He loved entertaining people, seeing them laugh and smile – and speaking of smiles, his was warm and bright and beautiful. He had pretty, sparkly eyes, and graceful hands, and a laugh that sounded like music.

“Ah, really??” Solhee groaned as she dropped her cards onto the table with a pout, and Hansol tried not to look too smug. On his other side, Joohyun narrowed her eyes at the board in front of them before sighing and turning to Seungkwan.  
“You’re really very good at this,” she said with a certain fond irritation. The game was simple enough – two paired teams competing to reach one hundred points. Joohyun and Solhee had taken the first set easily enough, but Seungkwan and Hansol had taken two in a row, the last one quite quickly.  
“It’s one of Yejin’s favorite pastimes,” he told her with a soft smile, “so I got a lot of practice at home. We used to play it with me and Yejin against Mother and Sungyeon. Another game?”  
“Best of five,” Solhee said with a nod, and Seungkwan grinned at her.  
“Think you can take two in a row?” Hansol asked her teasingly, and she stuck her tongue out at him in response before they both started laughing.  
“You know, I’d really like to meet your sister someday,” Joohyun said, sitting back against the cushions. “She sounds like an incredible woman – to take on the burden of the crown at the age she did would take a very special kind of person, I think.”  
“She really is,” he agreed, gathering the cards in to shuffle them again. “I was so young when our father died that in my mind, she’s always been queen, but she was always such a caring older sister too. When I was little it was just the way things were – ‘Yejin can’t play with us because she has queen things to do with Mother’ – but as I got older I realized just how hard it must have been on her.”  
“We should all go visit,” Solhee said, leaning forward to rest her chin on her folded hands. “Maybe next summer we can all sail down to the isles – find some made-up diplomatic reason for us to go, even though it’s really just so we can all meet Queen Yejin and the rest of your family.”  
“Shame we can’t go in the spring, when the orchards are blooming.” Seungkwan set the shuffled deck back down in the middle of the table for one of the girls to cut the cards. “The whole island smells like flowers, it’s really amazing – and when the wind hits the trees right you get the prettiest rush of petals blowing in the air. It’s too early in the season for sailing, though. The storms are just too dangerous.” He sighed sadly. “Ah well. Summertime’s also beautiful down there, too, and the midsummer festival is wonderful. Now, whose turn was it to deal?”

It was another wintry morning when Hansol finally admitted to himself that his feelings were much more than friendly. They’d stayed up late the night before, curled up under layers of blankets against the cold, talking about anything that came to mind –they’d gone from “I got a letter from my sister, the attacks on the fishing ships have mostly stopped” to “strawberries are better than plums and that’s a simple fact” to “do you think there are _really_ men living in ships on the moon, or is that just a fairy story?” in the course of one conversation, and that wasn’t even the strangest talk they’d had after going to bed. He’d woken up to bright white sunshine flowing in through the curtains and crisp air smelling of snow and woodsmoke. Seungkwan was curled up into a little ball of blankets with nothing but his face showing, all soft skin and squishy cheeks and slightly pouty lips, and Hansol had just laid there and smiled happily at him for a few minutes.  
It felt odd to admit, even to himself, that he was falling in love. It was unexpected, and exhilarating, and just a little scary. He felt like he’d been trying to resist gravity, for fear of the fall – of the _landing_. But then again…  
Seungkwan was nothing if not affectionate – the random hugs, the mornings he’d wake up with Seungkwan’s head on his shoulder or his arms around his ribs, the way he’d sometimes look over and see Seungkwan watching him with a soft, warm little smile. He encouraged Hansol to talk more, to say what was on his mind, and even when they disagreed on something it was never an angry fight – more of a verbal fencing match, both of them playing for points rather than to win. And it always ended with Seungkwan smiling at him.  
He’d been resisting, for fear of the fall. The idea that Seungkwan might catch him at the bottom hadn’t occurred to him – until now – and it made him catch his breath at the realization.

A sudden banging on the door startled him upright and out of his thoughts; Seungkwan grumbled drowsily and nestled closer into the blankets as if to shut out the noise along with the cold.  
“Wake up wake up _wake up,_ ” Solhee yelled through the door, “it _snowed_ last night, you know what that means.”  
“Alright, alright, calm down,” Hansol yelled back, “we’ll be out in a few minutes.”  
“Wha’s goin’ on?” Seungkwan muttered from inside the bundle of blankets, clearly reluctant to be awake yet. Hansol grinned and flopped back down onto the pillows.  
“When was the last time you had a snowball fight?” he asked, perhaps a little too cheerfully for the early morning.  
“…think I was nine?” Seungkwan was still for a moment before his head popped out from under the covers, suddenly wide awake. “It snowed?” he asked with wide eyes, and Hansol shrugged.  
“So says my sister, at least. We try to have at least one good snowball fight each winter with all of us, but it hasn’t dropped enough snow at once until now.” Seungkwan’s wide-eyed expression changed to a bright grin, and he practically vaulted out of bed, running to the window.  
“Oooh – oh, it actually _did_ snow!” he said excitedly, on tip-toe and staring down at the courtyard, and Hansol took a moment to appreciate the view – not the snowy grounds, but Seungkwan in his sleeping clothes. He was a very attractive young man, after all, and the thin linen trousers hung quite pleasingly on him – and that was about as far as Hansol was going to let himself take that particular line of thought this early in the morning. He smiled and joined Seungkwan at the window, leaning his chin on the other’s shoulder with an arm around his waist as they looked down at the snow-covered grounds.  
“Want to go throw some of it at the rest of the family?”  
Seungkwan smiled and leaned into the touch, and Hansol tried not to pay attention to the happy little flutter in his chest. Time enough for that later – now was the time for snowball warfare.

The air outside was cold enough to feel sharp when Hansol breathed in, but there was no wind, and the late morning sunshine sparkled on the fresh snow like a field of diamonds.  
“So, there really aren’t any rules,” Seungcheol explained as they all tramped out into the snow, “except no intentional headshots. Other than that, we just throw snowballs at each other until someone says they’ve had enough.”  
“Sounds like my kind of game,” Seungkwan said with a grin. The snow had piled high over two rows of bushes, about ten yards apart, which made easy cover. They’d convinced Eunwoo, one of Nayoung’s ladies-in-waiting and an old friend of Hansol’s, to join them to even out the numbers; they’d all bundled up in thick wool and furs, and all that remained was to set up and let the snowball battle begin.  
It seemed simple enough – make a snowball, find a target, and throw. The problem was that peeking above the chest-height barrier of the snow-capped bushes meant they were exposed to snowballs from the other side as well. It quickly turned into a game of quick movements and accuracy instead of simply throwing snow at anything that moved, of peeking past the side of the bushes and telling each other where to throw, and ducking quickly when they were spotted. Jokes and teasing banter were thrown back and forth as often as snowballs, and laughter echoed off the walls of the courtyard.  
Hansol couldn’t help but be distracted, though – Seungkwan got intense when he was in a competitive mood, and he was fascinated. There were snowflakes caught in his eyelashes, his cheeks were flushed from the cold, and he had the kind of sharp, bright smile that made Hansol instinctively grin in response.  
“Look,” he told Seungkwan, pointing up to the windows. Joohyun was sitting by the window with what looked like a cup of tea, laughing as she watched the rest of them; she waved back when they waved up at her, and pointed at the other team and mimed throwing a snowball. Seungkwan nodded and gave her a thumbs-up, and she laughed.  
The fond, happy little bubble of warmth in Hansol’s chest was back again, the same affectionate little glow that he’d felt that morning, and so many times before. It felt good to give a name to that feeling, even if calling it by that word scared him still – accepting that he was falling in love felt like such a large step – but it was Seungkwan. Seungkwan and the way he’d fit so easily into their family, Seungkwan and his bright smile and silly jokes, his soft heart and gentle hands and pretty voice, and how was Hansol _not_ supposed to love him?

It happened quickly – the hard-packed snow under their feet was smooth and slick, and this wasn’t the first time one of them had slipped. Hansol caught Seungkwan as he lost his balance, sending both of them to the ground, sitting half-upright against the barrier. Seungkwan was half on top of him, both of them laughing and flushed and so close together and -  
and without even thinking about it, Hansol leaned forward and kissed him.

There was a heartbeat’s space of suspension – uncertainty – the fear that he’d ruined something, but then Seungkwan’s lips moved against his, cold for a moment and then so, so warm. The contradicting sensations were dizzying – the chill winter air and the warmth of Seungkwan’s breath against his cheek, the rough edge of the branch digging into his back and the plush softness of his lips, the distant-sounding voices around them and the double-time drumbeat of his own heart pounding in his ears. The heat pooling in his chest felt like it should melt the snow around them, turn winter into summer, and he tilted his head slightly for a better angle –  
The sharp, wet chill of a handful of loose snow against the side of his face made Hansol pull back with a gasp, and Seungkwan sat back quickly on his heels, shaking snow out of his scarf before it melted.  
“The lovey-dovey stuff can wait,” Solhee said, with a merry little glint in her eyes that Hansol knew meant she’d be teasing him about this later. “Pay attention.” Hansol blinked up at her, his mind still catching up with the last few seconds.  
“What happened, you forget how to make snowballs?” Eunwoo called from the other side of the courtyard.  
“The newlyweds got distracted,” Solhee replied with a wicked grin.  
“Good!” Nayoung laughed. “I had to put up with it last year, now it’s your turn!” She cut off with a squeal as Seungcheol laughed, and Hansol looked back at Seungkwan. His eyes were wide, lips still slightly parted, flushed more than the cold and exertion would justify – he looked surprised, certainly, but Hansol didn’t think he looked angry.  
“I – we…” Seungkwan was staring at him, wide-eyed and, for the first time since Hansol had met him, speechless. “…later. We’ll talk later?” he finally managed, and Hansol nodded.

‘Later’ ended up taking till nearly sunset, because the tradeoff for an hour of fun in the snow was another hour of work and business afterward. Hansol rubbed absently at a spot of ink on his hand as he walked back to the rooms he shared with Seungkwan, thoughts tumbling around his head like leaves scattered by a breeze.  
He shouldn’t have done that. He should have _asked_ – shouldn’t have assumed that Seungkwan would want that – especially not in front of other people. Impulsive decisions were never his strong suit, and this one may have just ruined the easy, affectionate friendship they’d built.  
On the other hand, Seungkwan had kissed him back with only an instant of surprised hesitation. And it had been a _good_ kiss – Hansol kept thinking of the way their mouths fit together, the gentle pressure of a gloved hand against his cheek. And under the shock he’d seen what he could only call hunger in Seungkwan’s eyes, like he’d gotten a taste of something he wanted more of. Hansol paused as he reached the door to their suite, taking a deep breath to try to steady himself.  
They’d talked about so many things, food and dreams and family and men on the moon. They just needed to talk about _this_. That would make it less confusing.  
The room was warmly lit by candles and the setting sun, and the fire in the grate crackled as a log disintegrated into embers. Seungkwan sat at the small side desk, frantically writing something, but he looked up when Hansol closed the door behind him. Their eyes met for a long moment before both spoke at the same time.  
“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have – “  
“I need to apologize for – “  
They each trailed off, and Hansol took a cautious step further into the room. “You don’t need to apologize,” he said as Seungkwan stood up. “I – I started it.”  
“I just – I think I took it too far,” Seungkwan said nervously, “especially since I thought it might have just been an accident and then, well, Solhee, and the snow, and…”  
“And she’s already been teasing me about it,” Hansol said, mouth quirking up into a half-smile. “But… it wasn’t too far,” he said slowly, cautiously; they were standing within arm’s reach now, with candlelight and sunset glowing around them. The air felt thick, tension and possibilities and nerves condensing around them, and Hansol had to remind himself to breathe as he held eye contact. “Do you… do you want to do that again?”  
The words hung suspended in the air between them as he watched the play of emotions in Seungkwan’s eyes. Nervous worry gave way to puzzlement, to surprise – and then heat, need, _hunger_. Both of them moved at the same time, the distance between them closed in a single quick moment – and Hansol breathed in, buried his hands in Seungkwan’s hair and kissed his husband.

There was no hesitation this time; Seungkwan’s hands were warm against his back, his mouth soft and pliant, and the warm bubble in Hansol’s chest had changed into a desperate heat. The world seemed to shrink down, and nothing mattered except the need to touch, to taste, to memorize the feel of Seungkwan’s shoulders and arms under his hands and the hot, needy little sound he made when Hansol drew his lower lip between his teeth. He wanted to hear more of those sounds, to find out what else he could do to elicit that reaction or one even better. Seungkwan’s fingers brushed feather-light against the nape of his neck and Hansol shivered, his thoughts going pleasantly fuzzy. He pulled back by inches, eyes closed, resting his forehead against Seungkwan’s and lacing his finger’s behind his neck to hold him close.  
“I want this,” he breathed. “Just – just to be clear. Want this, want _you_ -“  
“Want this to be _us_ ,” Seungkwan whispered before leaning back in with a quiet exhale and kissing him again, and Hansol brushed his fingers against Seungkwan’s jawline, leaning into the kiss.

Hansol woke the next morning to vague awareness of voices in the corridor outside their room. Someone was shouting, there were running footsteps… something was happening, probably, but he didn’t think that something needed him to be involved just yet. Not when he was warm and comfortable, curled under a pile of blankets with Seungkwan’s breath ruffling his hair.  
They’d fallen asleep face to face, between soft gentle kisses and whispered words and the warmth of Seungkwan’s fingers curled around the back of his neck. Everything still felt too new to go any further, and Hansol had already had to remind himself a few times that it was alright now, he was allowed to feel this way.  
“Mmph,” Seungkwan grumbled sleeply, “wha’s all th’yellin’?”  
“Dunno,” Hansol said, trailing off into a yawn and wriggling closer into Seungkwan’s arms. This was nice, he thought on the edge of falling back asleep – soft and warm and safe and _nice_ , and Seungkwan smelled like soap and skin and citrus fruit. His drowsy mind puzzled over that for a moment, before pulling up a memory of sachets of fragrant wood chips, soaked in the oil from the fruits’ rinds and tucked in between Seungkwan’s shirts. Hansol let himself drift in half-asleep contentment, tucked against Seungkwan’s chest, only the heat of the hand on his back and the occasional thumping footstep or muffled yell on the other side of the door keeping him from falling back asleep in the thin light of dawn.  
He woke up slowly some time later to bright sunlight pouring in through the window and quiet from the corridor, still tangled up in sheets and Seungkwan’s arms. On a drowsy, mischievous whim, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against the other boy’s skin, just below his collarbone, earning a soft, approving hum. His lips dragged slowly over Seungkwan’s collarbone, not rough enough to leave marks on the skin, but with enough pressure to make the other boy’s breath speed up. He angled his head back with a breathy moan, arching to give Hansol more room as he kissed up the smooth skin of his neck. Hansol’s hand slid down to the small of Seungkwan’s back, just above the drawstring waist of his pants; he wanted to go farther down, but it still felt too soon. As much as he wanted to map every inch of Seungkwan’s skin with his hands, it didn’t feel right to rush into it – but when Seungkwan breathed his name and arched back, bringing their mouths together in a heated, desperate kiss, it was so difficult to remember to slow down.  
On an impulse Hansol rolled them over, bracing his weight on his forearms. The feel of their bodies pressed together like that, so close and intimate, was incredible; Hansol barely choked back a moan when Seungkwan’s thigh slid between his legs, the pressure new and dizzying. He threaded his fingers into Seungkwan’s hair and kissed him hard, rolling his hips on instinct and gasping at how good the movement felt. His entire body was hot, almost molten, the searing brush of fingers against the bare skin at his waist making his head spin.

The first loud knock on the door barely registered on Hansol’s mind, and the second only when Seungkwan made a discontented noise in the back of his throat. The third time it happened, Hansol rolled his eyes and pulled away from the kiss with a grumble.  
“What?” Hansol said crossly, turning his head toward the door. People thumping on his door early in the morning were always irritating, but the interruption was particularly unwelcome just now.  
“Good morning!” Eunwoo’s voice was far too bright and cheerful for an early morning. “Seungcheol asked me to come get you both – there’s someone that just arrived who would very much like to meet you.”  
“Can’t they wait?” Seungkwan sounded just as grouchy as Hansol felt at the distraction, and for some paradoxical reason that made him feel a little better. He was also deeply confused – he wasn’t sure exactly what time it was but it felt too early for any kind of social call, not to mention that given the choice, Seungcheol would probably prefer to still be asleep himself.  
“Oh, maybe, maybe.” He could hear the smile in Eunwoo’s voice, like she was holding onto a joke that she was waiting to tell. “But I wouldn’t recommend keeping her waiting too long – she’s only a few hours old, but she’s already gotten very good telling us when she’s not happy.” Hansol rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow as he stared in confusion at the door, and then at his husband as Seungkwan sat up straight with a gasp.  
“The baby’s here?!” Seungkwan was much quicker on the uptake than he was, and the happy smile spreading across his face made Hansol’s heartbeat stutter.  
“Gorgeous and healthy, especially those lungs,” Eunwoo said with a chuckle. “I’m surprised she didn’t wake you earlier.”  
“That’s what all the yelling was about,” Hansol murmured, meeting Seungkwan’s eyes with a slightly embarrassed grin. The other flushed, huffed a laugh, and sank back down against the pillows. “How’s Joohyun doing?” he asked in a louder voice.  
“Sound asleep as of ten minutes ago – she’s exhausted, but they’re both going to be fine.” Hansol sighed in relief; it had been a somewhat irrational fear of his that something would happen to his sister-in-law, but it was good to know she’d be alright.  
“We’ll be out in a few minutes,” Seungkwan said as he untangled himself from the blankets and climbed out of bed, hissing slightly when his bare feet touched the cold stone floors. Hansol allowed himself a long moment of staring at him, appreciating the smooth curve of his shoulders and the way the muscles in his back and arms shifted as he moved. He smiled to himself as he shifted the blankets away, flinching at the cold air against his skin as he hurried to the wardrobe for warm clothes.  
“Your hair’s a disaster,” Seungkwan said with a fond laugh, pulling on a woolen tunic the color of autumn leaves. “You look like a haystack.”  
“I wonder whose fault that could be.” Hansol grinned at him as he ran his fingers through his hair, leaning into the touch when Seungkwan’s hand moved to cup his cheek. His eyes slipped closed when Seungkwan leaned in to kiss him again, slow and soft and gentle this time. They broke apart after a moment, foreheads pressed together, close and intimate in the warm morning sunlight.  
“Wouldn’t mind doing that all day, to be honest,” Hansol breathed against his lips.  
“Neither would I.” Seungkwan kissed him softly one last time, pulling back with a small, content smile. “Later, though. Now, let’s go play with the baby.”

Seungcheol and Joohyun’s sitting room was darker than Hansol expected, heavy curtains hung over the windows to keep the room dim and warm. He blinked as they closed the door behind them, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness. Nayoung was lying on a chaise by the wall, one arm over her eyes and a blanket the color of sage leaves spread over her legs, apparently asleep; Eunwoo had said she’d been at Joohyun’s side through the night, so her weariness made sense. Solhee sat on the couch nearest the fire, her head leaned back against the upholstery and eyes closed. On the opposite wall, the door to the bedroom closed with a quiet click, and Seungcheol turned toward them with a tired but happy smile – and a small bundle of pale pink blankets in his arms.  
“There you are,” he said quietly. “How in the world did you two sleep through all the commotion?”  
“Never mind that,” Hansol said quickly – he was as anxious to avoid detailing what they’d been doing that morning as he was to meet the newest addition to their family.  
“Not important,” Seungkwan agreed, and Hansol glanced over to see a faint blush on his cheeks. He must have been thinking the same thing. “What _is_ important is the source of all that noise – and a lot more noise for the next year or two, if she’s anything like my nephew back home.” Seungcheol made a face as he maneuvered between the chairs in the dim orange firelight.  
“I’m not looking forward to that part,” he admitted ruefully. “Hopefully it won’t last long?”  
“I wish you luck on that,” Seungkwan said with a soft smile. “Dongmin kept them awake at night for the better part of the first year.” Seungcheol sighed, shook his head in resignation, and then smiled down at the child in his arms.  
“What do you think, Soyeon? Are you going to be nice and let your mama and papa sleep?” he said gently. “Or are you gonna be opinionated and stubborn like all the other girls in your family?”  
“Heard that,” Solhee muttered from the couch, eyes still closed.  
“Opinionated and stubborn usually means smart and strong-minded, too. Good things, even if they mean I don’t get more than two hours of sleep at a time.” Seungcheol reached out and smoothed down Solhee’s hair as he passed behind her, and she mumbled drowsily and slid a little further down into the cushions. “Alright, sit down,” he told his younger brother, “let’s get you two acquainted.”  
“You’re not scared I’m gonna drop her or something?” he said as he sunk into the soft cushions, leaning against Seungkwan’s side as his brother put the tiny girl into his arms.  
“You’ll be fine, just make sure you support her head.” The baby was heavier than he expected for something so small, with rosy cheeks and a shock of dark, messy hair. She made a quiet little sound as she settled into his arms, and Hansol was a little surprised at the sudden wave of affection and protectiveness he felt. Soyeon might not have been his own, but she was still family – and she looked so much like both her parents. He smiled as he brushed his thumb over the disordered wisps of hair at her temple.  
“She has your nose,” he told his brother, shifting the child slightly in his arms. She stirred, tiny fists waving in the air as her face screwed up, and Hansol froze in sudden panic.  
“Shhh, little one, it’s alright,” Seungkwan said very gently, laying one hand against the baby’s chest and wrapping his other arm around Hansol’s waist to steady him. “You don’t know us yet, but you will soon. See, you’re fine.” His voice was low and soothing, and Hansol relaxed, leaning against his chest with Seungkwan’s head on his shoulder. “You’re fine… there we go, it’s alright. No more crying.” The little girl opened her eyes, blinked drowsily up at them for a moment, then closed her hand around one of Seungkwan’s fingers, yawned, and fell back asleep. Hansol was smiling wide, his emotions a tangled mix of warmth and excitement and softness and – and _love_. He was getting used to that word now, getting better at accepting that it was the best description of his emotions. He leaned his cheek against Seungkwan’s temple with a happy little sigh.  
“I think I’m in love,” he said quietly, somewhat amused that he was talking about two different people at the same time – and it would apply just as strongly to both of them.

The day passed in warmth and dim light, with their father coming in and out between meetings, slinging his fancy robes over a chair and doting on his new granddaughter, and Yerim with dark circles under her eyes and medicines for her cousin, and little Soyeon being passed from one set of arms to another. It was late afternoon when they broke apart; happy occasions did not mean that work and tasks disappeared. There were still letters to write and proposals to read, and a packet of papers from a charitable organization Solhee’s friend had put them in contact with, and the task of drafting a response to a request from their father.  
The third time he heard Seungkwan sigh, Hansol put down the pen and watched him stare pensively out the window for a moment. He’d been moody since they’d gone back to their apartments, a kind of quiet sadness that Hansol couldn’t quite figure out. He did know he didn’t like it, however.  
“Kwan…?” he said quietly, unsure of whether he’d just make things worse by pressing the issue. Seungkwan sighed, gaze dropping to the floor; three quick steps took Hansol from the table to the couch, sitting next to Seungkwan with an arm over his shoulders. “What’s wrong?” Seungkwan turned toward him, leaning his head against Hansol’s shoulder. His breathing was slow and deep, and there was no tension in his muscles; he didn’t seem to be in distress, but the expression of muted sorrow on his face made Hansol’s heart clench.  
“I’m sorry,” Seungkwan said after a long moment, leaning into Hansol’s side. “I’m just… coming to terms with some things.” His voice was low and quiet, pensive, almost solemn.  
“Is it something I can help with?” Seungkwan’s hand was warm on his thigh, and Hansol covered it with his own, lacing their fingers together.  
“I…”Seungkwan closed his eyes and smiled softly as he ran his thumb over the back of Hansol’s hand. “This - _us_ \- it makes me happy. Really happy, but...” He trailed off, turning his face against Hansol’s shoulder. “As amazing as this is, it means I don’t ever get to have a family of my own – I mean, that’s the entire point of the thing, isn’t it? And well, I always kind of looked forward to being a father someday, and that’s not really a possibility anymore,” he said with a wry little twist to his lips. “So I’m really happy, but at the same time I’m also sad – and today brought a lot of that into focus, I suppose.” He sighed, shifting to wrap his arms around Hansol’s waist. “I’m sorry, that probably didn’t make much sense.”  
“No, it made a lot of sense,” Hansol told him with a lopsided grin, “we’ve been up to our ears in family concerns all day, after all. And, well, it was on my mind today too.” Seungkwan had been completely comfortable with Soyeon, to the point that Hansol hadn’t even really put up a fuss when he’d half-joking told her he would be her favorite uncle. He’d looked so natural with her that Hansol couldn’t help but think that maybe… “It might not actually be that impossible, you know.”  
Seungkwan pulled back slightly with a profoundly skeptical expression and a raised eyebrow. Hansol blinked, mentally repeated his last couple sentences, and wrinkled his nose. “No, no, not – not like _that_ ,” he laughed, “fostering. Adoption.”  
“I was so confused for a second there,” Seungkwan chuckled. “Thought your court mages had come up with something a little unnatural.” Hansol was trying not to be flustered, but between the ridiculous subject matter and the smile spreading like a sunrise across Seungkwan’s face, he was finding it difficult to string words together.  
“I – what? _No_ , are you reading the same strange stories my sister’s friends pass around or something?” Seungkwan snickered, laying his head against Hansol’s shoulder again. “Really though… you’d make a great father,” he said, leaning back against the corner of the couch so Seungkwan’s head rested under his chin. “How’s this,” he said quietly, threading gentle fingers into his hair. “The point of all this is that the succession is a clean line, right? So we have to give it some time – a couple years maybe – let them all see Soyeon growing up strong and healthy and smart like we all know she will. Then we can bring it up with my father without it looking like we’re trying to mess with the inheritance.”  
“That sounds like a good plan,” Seungkwan said, nuzzling against the side of Hansol’s neck. “And then you get to teach them how to write poetry and handle angry nobles, and I’ll teach them how to climb trees and coddle spoiled diplomats.”  
Hansol laughed fondly, pulling him closer, and smiled to himself at the mention of climbing trees – he’d had an idea a few days earlier, something nice that he could do for Seungkwan, and trees reminded him of that.

_Your Most Serene and August Majesty -_  
_May this letter find you and your esteemed family in good health and high spirits. Seungkwan tells me the weather breaks earlier on your isle than it does here on the coast – I hope the spring storms are mild this year._  
 _Your brother is a gentle and loving man, and has quickly become a beloved and much cherished part of our family. I’d like to prepare a surprise for him, and humbly request your majesty’s aid…_

The late spring breeze carried the scent of apple trees and warm soil into the open windows, picking up the scent of the potted rosebushes on its way past. Seungkwan was on his stomach on a thick rug in front of the fireplace in the family common room, letting Soyeon kick at his hands and giggle as she swatted at the toys lying around them. Solhee sat at the low table nearby, alternately annotating and editing her notes from the alchemy lab, and watching her little niece with a smile. The sound of a door closing had Seungkwan looking up from the baby girl in front of him, grinning at his husband as Hansol joined them on the floor.  
“Hi there,” Hansol said with a wide grin, leaning over to kiss Seungkwan’s cheek. “And hello to you too, rosebud,” he said as Soyeon cooed at him, holding her chubby little arms up and kicking her feet; Hansol picked her up and held her high over his head for a moment, making the little girl squeal happily before bringing her down and settling her into the crook of his arm. “Are you having fun playing with uncle Seungkwan?”  
“Lots of fun,” he said, reaching over to tap her nose. “She’s just about figure out rolling over, I think.”  
“Heavens help us when she starts crawling.” Hansol made a face and smoothed down the baby’s messy black hair. “Didn’t just come here to play with her, though,” he said with a poorly repressed grin. “There’s something I want to show you – meet me in the greenhouse in ten minutes?”

The castle greenhouse was warm and humid, a riot of color as the changing season brought herbs and flowers back to life. Hansol took Seungkwan’s hand and led him toward the northern wall, where the ceiling was highest and there were a few fruit trees in blossom already. The spring sun refracted slightly through the glass, lending a subtle pattern of color to the light. The air was thick with the scent of early mint and tansy and warm, damp soil.  
“You know I know about the plum trees back here, right?” Seungkwan said with a wry laugh. Hansol just smiled, waving to Jisoo as they passed by.  
“I know, you were talking about trying to grab some as soon as they ripen – but I don’t think you know about what was planted next to them a few weeks ago.”  
“I’m getting very curious about all th—“ Seungkwan cut off, stopping in his tracks and looking wide-eyed at a familiarly shaped pair of trees standing in freshly turned earth. “Are those…?”  
“Took a bit of effort to get them set in and established,” Hansol said, laying a hand on the bark of one of the tangerine trees, “and I’m not sure if they’ll fruit this year, but they should be – “ He was interrupted by Seungkwan’s arms wrapping around his shoulders and lips pressed firmly against his, and he smiled into the kiss. “Surprise,” he said fondly when they pulled apart.  
“You actually – those are really…” Hansol could count on his fingers the number of times he’d seen Seungkwan at a loss for words, and he mentally increased that tally by one. “You really got a pair of tangerine trees all the way up here? You did that – my god, Hansol, I love you so much.” Hansol smiled, leaning back in for another kiss.  
“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, thank you for reading through that bit of self-indulgent fun! I had a lot of fun with this. Big thank you to somang for the beta-read and the encouragement! Now, to go handle the flock of spin-off ideas that spawned while writing this...


End file.
